Remember Me
by Lost2Found
Summary: Harry Potter is a young, abused boy searching for a love he has missed for years. Sorted into Slytherin, Harry is isolated and scared. In Gryffindor, Hermione and Neville have a very similar experience. Will the three misfits be able to overcome the barriers of prejudice and abuse to build the family they long for? Slytherin!Harry Snape Mentorship Abused!Harry AU
1. Chapter 1

"What house do you think you'll be sorted into? I'll be Gryffindor. All my family is," the redheaded boy said with a bright smile.

Harry simply shrugged his shoulders. Unknown to most people, Harry had been blessed—or cursed—with the ability to remember every day of his life since the day he was born. As a little boy, much of what went on around him went over his head, but as he grew older, remembered conversations began to have more meaning. He vaguely knew about the Houses at Hogwarts, though not well enough to have a specific one he desired to be placed in.

"Will you tell me about them?" he asked quietly.

"Well, Gryffindor's the best. It's where all of the brave wizards and the heroes go! Then there's Ravenclaw, where all the bookworms go. Hufflepuff is supposed to be for people who are loyal, but my brothers say it's really just the house for the leftovers. The last one is Slytherin. I'd just die if I were sorted there—it's where all the evil wizards and witches go!"

Harry snorted. "Come on, now, "evil" can't really be its values!"

"Well, no," Ron admitted. "They're supposed to be cunning and resourceful, I suppose. Bunch of slimy snakes, if you ask me."

"Potter, Harry!"

Harry separated himself from his agemates and walked silently towards the stool, keeping his head low and his eyes downcast. The stern-looking, older witch dropped the hat on his head, and, being much too large. It covered nearly his entire face down to his nose.

"Hm, difficult! Very difficult! Courage, I see; not a bad mind either; there's talent, oh yes, and a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you? No preference?"

"Slytherin," he whispered.

"You don't wish for the same house as your parents?" The hat seemed surprised. Then, suddenly, it seemed to understand. "Ah, I see. You seek another. Slytherin indeed." The hat cried out, for all to hear, "Slytherin!"

With a smile, Harry lifted the hat from his head, only to freeze. The Hall was silent as death. All around him, students and professors stared at him with wide eyes and gaping mouths. Harry desperately looked over at Ron to see the boy's eyes ablaze with hatred. Swiveling, he looked at Slytherin table to see the students divided, some looking shocked and others looking malicious. Harry could feel the blood draining from his face.

Severus could see the Potter boy clearly from his seat at the Head Table. He, like everyone else, was shocked to see the boy sorted anywhere but Gryffindor, but he was appalled by the reaction of the other students, and especially the staff. He could see panic starting to dawn in the boy's eyes, but when he made eye contact, the boy froze, something intangible flickering in his green gaze, so like Lily's. With a jerk of his head, he directed the Boy Who Lived to the Slytherin table. The boy sat at the edge of the bench, hunching his shoulders and keeping his head low, looking for all the world like he wanted to disappear. The silence continued.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ah, Mr. Potter, our local celebrity," Snape sneered, looking at Harry with cold black eyes. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry swallowed thickly and meekly shook his head, eyes downcast. No one would want him to answer a question correctly—with the Dursleys, all that ever got him was a sore back and an empty stomach.

"Tut, tut. Clearly fame isn't everything, Mr. Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry flinched. "I'm not sure, sir."

The professor's lip curled. "What is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

This time, Harry said nothing. Testily, Snape spat out the answers to all three questions before ordering the students to all pair up. In the end, Harry and Neville Longbottom were both without partners. Silently, Harry crossed the room and slipped into the seat beside the nervous first-year.

Tears filled Harry's eyes as he left the potions classroom. He had been wrong to pick Slytherin, wrong to hope that the love he remembered and craved still existed. Wrong to think that anyone would want a freak like him. That was why they'd never come for him—Uncle Padfoot and Uncle Moony and Sev. When he'd seen Uncle Sevvy at that table, his heart had leapt, and he'd known—for the first time since he was fifteen months old, he'd _known—_ that he was safe, and he'd dared to hope he might be loved again. But, no, Uncle Sevvy had made it quite clear how he felt about Harry. Now, all that was left was for Harry to rebuild the walls around his heart and never allow them to crumble again.


	3. Chapter 3

"E-excuse me," a tremoring voice spoke softly to draw Harry out of his book. "May I sit with you? All the other tables are taken."

Harry looked up to find Neville standing beside him. He nodded, motioning towards the empty chair across from him. Three weeks had passed since they had been partnered together in Potions.

"Thanks," Neville whispered, looking relieved.

The two boys sat in silence, each reading their own books. Covertly, though, Harry studied his companion. He remembered Neville, though he was sure that the other boy had long forgotten him. He could remember sitting in play pens and cribs together, along with Ron Weasley, as all three of their mothers laughed, enjoying each other's company and gushing over their three boys. The corners of Harry's mouth quirked up as he remembered Neville's mother, Aunt Alice, cooing to him. Baby Harry had babbled with a childish grin, laughing in delight as his godmother tickled him. His mother had done much the same with Ron and Aunt Molly had copied the action with Neville. The three women had been the best of friends, sure that their sons would be as well. Harry sighed. That particular memory was from just before his first birthday, just before the war really wound up and any visits from the outside world had stopped.

Over the next several weeks, the boys continued to meet in the library to study together. Harry learned that, just as he was the outcast in Slytherin, Neville's experience in Gryffindor was much the same. Where Harry endured the bullying of the Death Eaters' children, Neville was left to face Ron Weasley and his cohorts. Apparently—and Harry had experienced this for himself during classes, especially potions—the years had not helped Ron's disposition, and living life as the youngest boy of six had left him with the need to constantly prove himself, even at the expense of others.

"Harry," Neville whispered one day as they took a break from their studies, "How're you so good at potions? I thought you grew up with Muggles."

Harry was quiet for several minutes. "Well," he began carefully, "I did most of the cooking back home, and making a potion isn't much different than that. How come you struggle so much?"

"I just get nervous, and I can't stop shaking. Uncle Algie says I'm stupid and clumsy, and a squib!" Neville's voice rose in distress, but he quickly quieted, "Professor Snape—his robes—I—I can't—" Neville's stilted speech was answer enough for Harry, and he nodded.

"Well," Harry said encouragingly, "We'll just have to find a way to keep you from getting so nervous."

"Excuse me," A young girl, who Harry recognized from the sorting as Hermione Granger, came up to the table. "May I sit with you? All the other tables are taken." Harry looked up and saw a table with several Gryffindor first-year girls sitting at it which had an empty chair. The girls, however, were looking at Hermione with vicious glares, and were pointing and snickering loudly. Seeing where he was looking, Hermione blushed. "Please," she whispered.

Harry nodded, pulling his books to the side to allow her to sit.

"Thanks."


	4. Chapter 4

Hey y'all,

It's been a while, so I wanted to give everyone an update about why I haven't updated this story. Summertime was crazy, with working my first full-time, 40-hour per week job; taking 2 classes; and finding out I would have to transfer schools. In August, I officially started nursing school at my new university, across the state from where I previously was, and even further from my family. As for the story, I've been writing bits and pieces whenever I can, but I'm struggling to connect those bits and pieces together into a cohesive story, especially as I'm trying to stay as close to cannon as possible with characterization and plot. That's why it's taken so long. I want this story to be as good as possible for y'all. But, rest assured, it has not been abandoned. As I make some decisions to get back to posting, the story may diverge more than I originally wanted from cannon, but I am determined to wrap it up and get back to posting. Thank you all for your patience. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Harry woke up early the next morning and dressed long before anyone else was awake. When others started filtering into the common room, Harry got up and walked to the Great Hall for breakfast. He was one of the first students to enter the Hall—the only others were Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger, sitting at Gryffindor table. Within the space of thirty minutes, though, hundreds of others filled the Hall and the sound of children filling their plates echoed through the large room. As he finished his meager breakfast—Harry had taken only some toast and a single strip of bacon—Harry's attention was caught by the hundreds of owls which streamed through the windows. Some dropped letters off with other students, some dropped newspapers, but the majority headed straight towards him. As the letters—many of them red—piled up around him, Harry felt a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught sight of the paper a sixth year had received. On the front page, in bold print were the words **Harry Potter: Boy Who Lived to Betray** accompanied by his picture. The dread grew.

Severus saw the owls drop the howlers on his house's table and felt a prick of unease in the back of his mind. He had risen and started to move towards the Potter boy when, suddenly, they all exploded at once, sending up a cacophony of abusive language and accusations. The Potter boy, for his part, sat completely motionless, his face pale and blank of all emotion. After finishing, the howlers all exploded, leaving behind a confetti of shredded paper. Harry's shoulders were hunched, and he kept his head low. Moving quickly, he gathered the plain letters which remained and stuffed the tan envelopes into his bag. Then, without waiting, he moved for the door of the Great Hall.

"Potter!" The potions master snapped, only for the boy to flinch and quicken his pace. Hurriedly, he followed the eleven-year-old, black robes billowing behind him. When he burst through the door, though, Potter had disappeared. For several minutes, he searched the corridors, but he found no sign of the boy. Finally, admitting defeat, he headed back towards the Great Hall. He was just about to round the corner, when he heard the door to the Hall creak open.

"Come on, Neville, you must know where he's gone!" Severus stifled a groan upon hearing the bookish Gryffindor girl's voice.

"I—I don't know if I should t—t—tell you," Neville Longbottom stuttered.

Snape narrowed his eyes. He knew that Harry chose to work with the Longbottom boy often in potions, and he'd heard his upper years grumbling about the boy fraternizing with those outside his house, but he hadn't realized that the two boys were truly friends, or that the Granger girl was involved.

"Please, Neville! I just want to make sure he's alright. It's just dreadful for people to send him those nasty letters over something he can't help."

From where he stood, hidden in the shadows, Severus could see the Longbottom boy seriously considering the Gryffindor girl before finally nodding. "Alright."

Silently, Severus followed.

As Neville led Hermione through the trees, Severus slowed his pace. He knew where this path headed—to the old outcropping by Black Lake where he'd often met up with Lily. Taking a different path, he came up on the hill above the outcropping, allowing him the perfect view of the three students. Harry's head snapped up as a twig crunched under Neville's feet. The boy looked warily at Hermione, wiping his eyes quickly on the sleeve of his robe. Without speaking, Neville sat beside Harry on the rocks, and Hermione quickly followed suit.

"Where'd you put them, Harry?" Neville asked Harry, surprising Snape with his boldness. Wordlessly, Harry reached into his bag and pulled out the stack of letters, handing them to Neville.

Harry swallowed hard before turning his gaze to Hermione. "What're you doing here?"

Hermione blushed, but her Gryffindor bravery quickly kicked in. "I wanted to make sure you were alright. It's ghastly, for people to send you mail like that. I knew Neville would know where to find you."

Harry looked over at Neville, who had opened the first letter, and smirked. "Do I want to know?" He asked wryly.

Neville frowned. "Probably not," he answered with false lightness.

"Well, let's have it, then."

Hermione looked up, shocked. "But Harry!" She exclaimed.

"It's best to have it out—to know what to expect. Go on, then, Neville. Read on."

Severus watched from the hill as Neville and Hermione took turns reading the letters aloud. Often they'd stop or stumble over the truly awful things that people said to Harry, but the boy's face might've been carved out of granite for the amount of emotion he displayed. Only once did Harry flinch, when Hermione read the letter from Molly Weasley.

"I have never been more disappointed in all of my life! I must say, I am almost glad that James and Lily did not live to see their son placed in Slytherin. They would've hated what you've become."

"That's not true," Harry whispered, though it was clear from the way his eyes filled with tears that the eleven-year-old struggled to believe his own words.

"Do you want me to finish it, Harry?" Hermione asked gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. Harry flinched and shrugged off her hand, but nodded nonetheless. "Your mother died to save you. You have betrayed her sacrifice. Lily—" Here, Hermione stumbled, hesitated, and then continued reading, "Lily never should have saved you. She traded her life for yours, and you spat on her grave. She would never forgive you, and neither would James."

"It's not true!" Neville said, uncharacteristically fiercely.

Hermione nodded firmly. "I'm sure that your mother would be right proud of you, Harry."

It was at that point that Severus decided to reveal himself. "Of that, I can assure you, Mr. Potter."


End file.
